Limbo
by Titan5
Summary: John wakes up injured in a crashed jumper with no memory of what happened or how he got there.


**Title: **Limbo

**Author: **Titan5

**Rating: **PG

**Summary: **John wakes up injured in a crashed jumper with no memory of what happened or how he got there.

**Note: **Many thanks to my beta, Sharpes Hussey. I continued to fiddle with it after she was finished, so any mistakes left are mine.

**Limbo**

The pain attacked the moment John opened his eyes and he had no idea why. For a moment he thought someone was actually stabbing him in the forehead, but he didn't have the presence of mind to figure out who it would be. When the sharp pain finally pulled back from stabbing to throbbing and he began to gain some awareness, he realized his eyes were squeezed shut. Forcing himself to relax his muscles, he let out a slow breath, allowing a slit to form between his eyelids.

John continued to lie there, letting his body adjust to being conscious. He thought he might have drifted a bit, but he finally recognized that he was lying on the floor of a jumper. But why? Where was his team? The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. He could remember nothing of how he had come to be there. It was time to get up and find out.

His first attempt at sitting up didn't go so well. He made it up to his elbows, the world tilted alarmingly to the side and then he felt himself falling. The next thing he knew, he was looking at the ceiling of the jumper again. Okay, so that could have gone better. He reached up and gently probed his aching head, finding a large bump on the right side. Well, that explained a lot.

For his second attempt, John barely got his elbows under him, then paused to let the world settle before pushing up any farther. He had almost made it to sitting upright when the sudden pain in his leg had him rolling to the side so he could vomit. Heaving up his last meal brought bruising to his ribcage to his immediate attention. Unfortunately the discovery did nothing to slow down the emptying of his stomach. It did, however, up the pain level a notch or three. And then he was down for the count again.

The third time he woke was the most disgusting. The sour stench of vomit was his first sensation, followed by the pain in his head and leg. He was lying on his side and when he tried to push himself up, his hand slid in the wetness. His stomach was threatening to void itself again and he was too dizzy to figure out where to go, so he just slid and pulled himself until the odor lessened, ignoring the fire of pain that was commanding him to be still.

After panting through the nausea and vertigo for a few moments, he looked around. He was on his side, propped up on one elbow and now facing the back of the jumper. The empty jumper. Muted light came in through the front window, enough light to see that he was alone. Rolling over enough to prop his back against the wall, John slowly drew his head around to look at the front of the ship. The windshield, if you could call it that, was cracked and the front end of the ship crumpled. Huge tree branches filled the front view, leading him to believe he'd crashed the jumper into a stand of trees. But where? And where was his team?

oOo

"Ahhh!" John panted and moaned and then panted some more. It had taken almost forever to get the med kit down and get his leg splinted. The bones in his lower right leg were broken, but at least it wasn't a compound fracture. He was pretty sure he'd passed out at least twice and he was about to make it three times. Pushing his head back against the side of the jumper, he tried to push away the gray from the edges of his vision. It took a few moments, but the darkness finally began receding, leaving John exhausted.

With a sigh, he looked around the jumper, trying to make his pounding head put everything together. He'd crashed a jumper God knows where. He had no idea where his team was or why he'd crashed. Light was beginning to fade, so wherever he was, the day was ending. The radio didn't work. Along with his broken leg, he had the mother of all concussions and some bruised ribs. Good thing he wasn't bleeding to death. Glancing at the back hatch, John knew what he had to do. He had to get outside so maybe he could figure out where he was and what his situation was.

He crawled to the hatch door, glad no one was here to see the tears streaming down his face. He wasn't sure what hurt more, the pain in his head or the pain in his leg. By the time he got there, he was so dizzy and nauseated that he just lay there until he could think again.

Once he'd recovered as much as he was going to, he stretched out to release the hatch and then watched as it lowered. The sun was low enough in the sky for the trees to cast long shadows across the metal ramp. It was still brighter outside than inside, making John squint. When his eyes had adjusted to the increase in brightness, he crawled partway down the ramp.

The back of the jumper faced a small clearing surrounded by trees. A furrow started halfway across the clearing and led up to the jumper. The ship must have been damaged, leading John to try to land in the clearing. That had apparently not gone as well as he'd probably hoped. The weather was cool, but not cold, although the wind picked up to send a chill through him.

"Life signs," he said suddenly, reaching into his vest. The LSD was in an upper pocket and seemed to have survived the crash. John activated it and scanned at the maximum possible distance. Nothing but his own little blip. With a resigned sigh, he put the instrument back into his pocket and crawled the rest of the way down the ramp. He didn't want to get too far away, but he did want to see how much damage there was to his ship.

Looking around the edge of the jumper, John's jaw dropped open. A second furrow began just a few feet from the back of the jumper and led to the blackened and still smoldering remains of a Wraith dart. John's heart rate shot straight up. His hand went immediately to his side. He had his sidearm, but not his P90 and there would be no running back into the ship to get it. Frozen in place, he studied the remains of the ship. There wasn't much left. He was lucky only a few trees around the ship had burned and that it hadn't set the whole forest ablaze.

His hand shaking slightly, John retrieved the LSD and stared at it. Still only him. Okay, Wraith didn't show up when they were hibernating, but this guy definitely would not be hibernating. He looked back at the wreckage. There was barely enough to recognize as being a dart. The pilot had to be dead. Right. He glanced back down at the screen, empty but for one blinking dot. Just him. The Wraith was dead. John blew out a long, slow breath.

He'd been fighting, chasing, or running from a dart. Was his team in danger? His head snapped up. What if his team had been culled and stored in the dart? The thought almost made him sick again, since there would be no retrieving anyone from that mess of a ship. No, he refused to think about that. They were out there and they were safe and they would find him. The wind picked up, making him shiver, which caused the muscles in his leg to contract involuntarily. The resulting wave of agony had his body trying to purge his already empty stomach yet again.

oOo

It took a lot longer to get back into the jumper than it had taken to get out. By the time John was reaching for the hatch controls, he was shaking with fatigue, pain, and cold. He let out a sigh of relief as he watched the ramp move upward. It was almost dark and getting downright chilly outside. Rescue was doubtful before morning, so he needed as much protection against the elements as he could get. When the back hatch was about three quarters closed, it ground to a halt.

John stared in disbelief and then pushed feebly against the ramp. What the heck? Stretching up, he hit the door controls again, but nothing happened. John wasn't sure if the power had completely run out or if the door was stuck, damaged in the crash. It was warmer than being outside, but a draft definitely blew in through the opening, cooling the jumper. His day just seemed to get better and better.

Think positive, he repeatedly told himself as he crawled further into the ship. It took several minutes of grunting and cursing to get himself pulled to his feet, but he finally succeeded, hanging onto the edge of the cargo bin for dear life. When the wave of intense vertigo passed and the pain subsided enough that he could function again, he continued to clutch the rim of the bin with his left hand while emptying it with his right. For now he just set the food, water, and blankets on the bench below. By the time he was done, it took all his remaining energy to maneuver around and sit on the bench next to his booty.

He lost a little time sitting there, because when he opened his eyes it was almost completely dark in the jumper. Rousing himself, he felt around the pile of supplies until he came to the flashlight and immediately turned it on. When he pointed the light to the stack of supplies on the bench, he was pleasantly surprised. There was a dozen bottles of water and several MREs, along with some extra batteries, another flashlight, and five blankets. He figured he could make it almost a week just from what sat in front of him. He was hoping for a much shorter wait for rescue, but at least food and water would not be an immediate concern. That was good since he wasn't getting around too easily right now.

Suddenly thirsty, John opened one of the bottles, forcing himself to take small slips and to do it slowly. He had no desire to start up the vomiting again. He wrinkled his nose, the thoughts bringing the still lingering odor of his initial bout to the forefront of his mind. Shining the flashlight over to the nasty puddle, he cringed. There was no one here but him to clean it up and he didn't relish the thought of smelling that all night.

The next hour was spent cleaning up the floor and organizing his supplies. He also found a case of power bars under the bench, a mixture of peanut butter and chocolate chip, his two favorite flavors. Rodney had undoubtedly been preparing for disaster, not that John was complaining.

John glanced down at the med kit in his lap. He had several packages of Tylenol and a few doses of morphine. His leg was screaming at him, but he knew between being alone and the head injury, he had no business even considering the morphine. With a sigh, he got out a package of Tylenol. The dose he had taken when he splinted his leg hadn't seemed to do much good, but who knows. He guessed it could possibly be worse, although he was having a hard time imagining that right now.

Smiling, John could almost imagine Rodney sitting in front of him, scolding him for being injured. "What the heck is wrong with you, Sheppard? Do you think jumpers grow on trees? And now we'll get no sleep trying to wake you up every couple of hours. The only good thing is with you out of commission until that leg heals, maybe I can get something done in the lab. And I'm not entertaining you while you're laid up, so just vanish that little thought from you miserable pea brain right now."

It was kind of a let down when the image faded from John's mind and he remembered that he was alone. For a moment, the gap left by his missing team burned in his heart until he forced himself to shake it off. "I don't know where you guys are, but you're okay. You're safe and you're looking for me."

Now if he could just make himself believe that.

oOo

The night was restless, making John almost relieved when the sun finally began coming up. He'd started on the bench, but it was so narrow that he was constantly fighting falling off of it. After his third near miss resulted in him tensing his leg muscles with a paralyzing burst of pain, he moved to the floor. The hard floor of the jumper quickly convinced him that he was getting way too old for this stuff. At least he'd been warm enough under the blankets.

After a breakfast of half a powerbar and some water, John tried working on the radio again. In the back of his mind, he knew it was pointless, but it wasn't like he had anything else to do. He managed to make it through the morning without passing out, although the headache from Hades was still in action, along with regular dizzy spells. By noon he was fighting the urge to punch the console. On the plus side, he was beginning to feel hungry.

Although light filtered in through the front window of the jumper, the trees the ship was currently crunched into did a good job of blocking out much of the sun. The dim interior of the ship joined with the forced inactivity to give John a nasty case of cabin fever. Snagging an MRE and a water, he scooted to the back hatch and tried opening it. It took three times before the thing finally groaned and creaked until the hatch hit the ground. John was happy it seemed to be warmer today because he was having doubts about the door closing again.

Sitting at the top of the ramp with his back to the jumper wall, John tore into his meal. He'd been lucky enough to snag a turkey sandwich and his stomach growled in anticipation. He made it through almost half before his body decided that was enough. Resting his head against the metal, he looked out across the small clearing. It looked like anywhere on Earth. That always amazed him. The sun felt good on his face, even if it was playing heck with his headache. He closed his eyes.

A weird chirping woke John up, making his head snap up from where it had sagged against his chest. Lightning burst behind his eyeballs in time with the explosions in his head, making him clench his jaw and squint against the pain. Vertigo assailed him, forcing John to grip the edge of the jumper for support. It seemed to take forever for the sensation of being tossed about to subside enough he dared open his eyes. Everything was fuzzy at first, but his vision quickly focused on what appeared to be a brown animal with yellow oval markings. It looked like a cross between a squirrel and a house cat.

The animal perched back on his hind legs and chirped at John, sounding almost like a bird. Large ears with tufts of yellow hair were drawn up at attention and his little black nose sniffed the air. John blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn't imagining the creature. Using his back legs, the squirrel-cat scooted forward a step and sniffed the air again.

John pinched off a bite of bread and held it up. "You hungry? Want a little snack?" He tossed the wedge and was proud to see it land just a few inches in front of the animal. After chirping again, it leaned forward until it could snatch the bit of food up and then sat back sniffing it. A few seconds later, the animal seemed satisfied that John really was tossing food and wolfed it down. It looked like the critter licked his paws before chirping at John again, undoubtedly asking for seconds.

"So, you like that, huh? How about another bite?" John pinched off a larger piece of the sandwich, making sure to get meat and cheese with this sample. He tossed it out and his friend wasted no time gobbling up the offering. The next few minutes were spent feeding the rest of his lunch to the wildlife. The animal chattered at him each time he paused before throwing the food.

"You remind me of someone with all the talking and eating," he said with a grin. "Guess we'll have to call you Rodney, just don't tell McKay. He might not be impressed that I named a squirrel . . . cat thingy after him." The animal crept up to stand only two feet in front of John, chattering away.

"Sorry," he said, showing the creature his empty hands. "I'm all out for now. But come back tonight and we can have supper together." John looked up at the sky and sighed. "Unless I get rescued before then." Thoughts of his team bombarded his mind and worry began to tighten his stomach. He wondered for the hundredth time if they were okay. His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by his furry friend, who gave one last chirp and then scampered off through the trees.

"Goodbye to you too," John said. Now that he was alone again, it seemed insufferably quiet. Setting his trash in the back of the jumper, John moved himself to the bottom of the ramp. He only had to stop once to grit his teeth through muscle spasms in his leg. He could hear Ronon's voice in the back of head telling him to toughen up and quit his bellyaching. He smiled because he could also hear Teyla very diplomatically pointing out that if he'd just be still, it probably wouldn't hurt so much.

"Sitting still was never my strong suit," he muttered to no one in particular. Looking around, he saw a large branch over an inch in diameter that looked like it would meet his needs. It was several feet away, lying at the base of a huge tree, so it took John a few minutes to pull himself over to it. Once he'd tested it and decided it would hold, he used it and the tree trunk to push himself to his feet.

Dizziness reigned supreme for a while, to the point he thought he might lose the half sandwich he'd eaten for lunch. But he clung to the rough bark of the tree with Ronon rooting him on from his subconscious and sure enough, the world finally decided to stop imitating a tilt-a-whirl. Actually, it might have been closer to the scrambler. He tested his crutch by taking a careful hobble forward.

It was slow and painstaking, heavy on the pain part, but John eventually made it over to the dart remains on the other side of the jumper. He was fortunate that he was able to use the jumper for added support about half of the trip. He just needed to see for himself that the Wraith was dead. Once there, he ended up having to lean against the hull's remains to see into the devastated cockpit. His efforts were rewarded with the gruesome sight of part of a Wraith arm, some hair, and a singed lower half of a leg. The smell of death and burned flesh and hair was enough to have him jerking back to heave his lunch onto the ground.

"Crap," he muttered when he was finished and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Gotta . . . stop doing this." The light breeze that had seemed to refreshing earlier picked up the odors and John found himself fighting his gag reflex again. Tightening his hold on his improvised crutch, he struggled to get away from the craft as quickly as possible without jolting his leg too much or risking toppling over.

He had almost made it back to the ramp when he felt extremely light headed. A cold sweat had broken out across his brow and he was forced to lean against the side of the jumper to keep himself upright. When the spell failed to pass and his leg began threatening to cramp up, John decided a rest was in order and began lowering himself to the ground.

oOo

His arm was hot. Only his right arm, from the elbow down. That made no sense. Rousing himself just a little, he moved his arm to lie across his chest and it immediately cooled. He began drifting again until something nudged his leg. Furrowing his brow a little, he made a feeble attempt at opening his eyes, but then relaxed his muscles as the desire faded.

Next he was assaulted by loud chattering really close to his right ear. What the heck? This disturbance was enough motivation to actually get his eyes open. He stared at the sky for a moment, thinking it looked really blue. Why was he looking at the sky? The chattering started again and he twisted his head toward the sound. Critter Rodney sat about a two feet from his elbow scolding him about something. John lifted his head a bit and looked around to get his bearings. He was lying in the grass beside the jumper, just barely in its shade. He rubbed at his right arm, still warm from where it had apparently been in the sun.

"Funny, I don't remember actually making it to the ground," John informed Rodney. Rodney answered something back. He didn't hurt any worse than usual, so he must have gotten himself close enough for a controlled fall when he'd passed out. Rodney took a step closer and then chattered again.

"Okay, already, I got it," John snapped, causing the squirrel-cat to jump back a couple of steps and glare at him. John rubbed the side of his head. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. This whole situation is just frustrating as hell," he explained, sweeping his arm around his impromptu camp. Rodney made low grumbling noises as he continued to watch John.

"I'm talking to a . . . squirrel-cat. And not just talking, I'm explaining myself and apologizing." With a sigh, John pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Look, just . . . when I get rescued, this never gets mentioned, got it?" Rodney made some chirping noises that almost sounded like he was laughing and then scurried away.

"Right." It was official. He'd lost his mind. He wondered, not for the first time, how Ronon had survived seven years with no real companionship. No wonder the man hardly talked the first year he was in Atlantis. "I wonder if he ever talked to animals?" Okay, he was not asking Ronon that. Not under any circumstances.

John used the side of the ship and his stick to get himself vertical again. The sun had moved quite a bit, indicating at least a couple of hours had passed. He tried not to think about what that might indicate in terms of his head injury. Hopefully he'd just overexerted himself. The first couple of steps were pretty rough, but once he loosened up and got his rhythm, he made it to the back of the ship relatively quickly. His first stop after that was Tylenol and water. Then he decided he was hungry again. Not really that surprising since his last meal hadn't spent very long in his stomach.

After a power bar, John fiddled with the ship's console again. He didn't really think he could fix it, but he had nothing else to do and just sitting still wasn't an option. When he wasn't occupied with some task, he began worrying about his team. That or thinking about how much his leg and head hurt. Neither seemed to make an acceptable pastime.

By the time the sun was low enough that John decided to have supper, he was starved. Grabbing a beef stew MRE, he went to sit at the back hatch like he had at lunch. Half way through his meal, Rodney showed up, begging for scraps. John would never have admitted it out loud, but he was really beginning to like the little critter. He picked out a piece of potato and threw it to the squirrel-cat, watching him hold the vegetable in his little hands as he gnawed bites off.

Not a squirrel-cat he decided, studying the animal.. His dark coloring and almost gold markings looked more like a chipmunk. And the way he held his food reminded John of a raccoon. Okay, so not a squirrel-cat, but a chipmunk-raccoon. But the body still reminded him of a cat. So a . . . . chipmunk-coon-cat? This was getting ridiculous. John really needed to get rescued soon. He threw Rodney a chunk of carrot before he could even ask.

Opening a package of crackers to toss out to his friend, he looked up to see four more animals like Rodney cautiously making their way out of the forest to sniff around his food. Rodney chattered at them a moment and then turned around to hunch down over his carrot.

"You brought company tonight. Or maybe they're just party crashers since you don't seem too excited about sharing." John broke the crackers up into smaller pieces and began tossing them to the new animals. Rodney finished his carrot and turned around to face the others looking a bit panicked at the way they were scarfing down the offered food.

John whistled, getting Rodney's attention, and threw him another potato. "Don't worry, you're still the favorite." He laughed at the way his new pet turned away from the other animals, as if trying to hide his gourmet dinner. When the crackers and stew were gone, he broke up the remains of a half-eaten power bar. John kept tossing the whole crew food until they were all laid out in the grass cooing.

"You guys look happy as a bunch of dead pigs in the sunshine," he grinned. After a few moments, the grin faded a little. "Crap, I forgot rule number one. Don't feed the wildlife. I bet I'll never get rid of you guys now." Watching the satisfied animals, he couldn't help but smile again. At least they were keeping him company. He just had to be careful not to feed them so much he ran out, since he had no idea when rescue was coming and he wasn't exactly in shape to go hunting or gathering. Of course if he got really hungy . . .

No, it wasn't the time to think like that. He had to remain positive. He would get rescued soon. His team would be safe, just worrying about him. And he would not be reduced to eating animals he'd had conversations with.

oOo

When it came time to lift the hatch, it didn't. Not even a shudder or a groan. It was like trying to start a car with a dead battery. The temperature wasn't bad, but when the wind blew it got a little chilly, even under the blankets. John tried to blame his lack of sleep on that, but the open hatch leaving him vulnerable to whatever was out there kept him jumping at every sound. He knew the Wraith was dead, but he didn't know for sure there weren't any more out there. Or people who didn't like strangers. Or animals larger and not as friendly as Rodney. His subconscious was convinced that he had to stand watch all night because there was no one else. His injured and exhausted body had other ideas. So he spent the night dozing off only to jerk awake a few minutes later.

When morning came, he just sat in a stupor for a while. Gah, he needed coffee in the worst way. Rubbing his face, he sighed and pushed his bedding aside. After some water and Tylenol, he decided it was time to take care of mother nature. He was stiff and sore, so it seemed to take three forevers to get himself up and moving. He crutched outside and scanned the cloudy sky. It looked like he might get rain today, but he hoped not. He needed to construct some sort of covering for the door in case it did.

His leg was killing him this morning and he couldn't bear for his foot to touch the ground with any force, so it took him longer than usual to make it to the edge of the forest. After he relieved himself, he just leaned his hand against the tree for a moment. He could hear chattering from behind him, so his little animal colony had shown up for breakfast.

Pulling himself together, he hobbled back to the jumper. He was almost there when he looked up from the ground to realize he could still hear his friends, but he couldn't see any of them. "What are you guys up to?" Reaching the jumper, he had to lean against it a moment. He was dizzy and felt a lot more weak and sore than yesterday. Things were really starting to catch up to him. He needed to stay off his feet and get some rest today. First, breakfast, since his stomach was growling at him.

Rounding the back of the jumper, he had to grab the edge of the ship to keep from being bowled over by the herd of chipmunk-coon-cats that barreled out at full speed. "What the . . . " After watching them disappear into the forest, he glanced into the ship and groaned. He'd left the box of powerbars on the floor and the local wildlife had taken advantage of his mistake, tearing open one end of the box. Shredded wrappers and a few crumbs littered the floor.

Inventory revealed that they had eaten eleven of the bars out of a package of twenty-four. John had previously eaten two. Two packages were damaged and the bar inside nibbled on. Another package was partially open, but the bar didn't appear to have been chewed on. That left eight bars that were for sure okay, one possible, and two that he wouldn't eat unless he was starving. Who knew what kind of diseases these guys carried and John wasn't exactly in prime physical health to fight off alien bacteria.

"Way to go, John. That was incredibly stupid." Repacking what was left, he stored the box in the compartment under the bench. The MREs and water had been in a crate on the bench and looked untouched. He didn't want to put them back in the cargo bin because it was hard for him to navigate with his bum leg. He settled for placing his folded blankets over the crate. That should do for now, because he didn't plan on venturing out of the jumper today. He was just too tired and if he was honest, felt too bad.

John ended up just sitting on the bench for a while, staring at the far wall and feeling a little foolish. Once again he wondered about his team. He fought off the what if's by imagining himself having to explain to McKay that he almost starved because he let the local fauna steal a big chunk of his food supplies. The resulting mental lecture left him smiling as he imagined the hand motions that would probably accompany it. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

An hour later, John realized he'd forgotten all about breakfast after his food disaster. The time sitting still had helped him feel a little better, so he looked through the MREs. Finding one with a cheese and vegetable omelet, he pulled it out and smacked his lips. "Now that's what I'm talking about."

With the dizziness and nausea at bay, he managed to finish the meal. That left him full and sleepy. Thoughts of a nap entered his mind, which he quickly repelled, thinking he didn't have time to be lying around sleeping. Then it hit him. He had all the time in the world right now. And since he was too jumpy to sleep at night, now was the perfect time to catch up on his rest. Rigging the hatch cover would be something to occupy him after his nap. With an exaggerated sigh, he downed a couple of Tylenol, made sure the food was secure, and spread out on the bedroll in the floor. His last thought before he drifted off was another hope for a quick rescue. His food might hold out for several more days, but he was almost out of Tylenol.

oOo

"Are you alive?" Something poked him hard in the shoulder.

John jerked awake, slamming his leg against the side of the bench, eliciting a rather unmanly yelp.

"Rodney, what did you do?"

Still gasping, John opened his eyes while trying to pull away from the offensive poking. Jennifer Keller was shoving Rodney aside with a little help from Ronon. The Satedan grinned down at him as he pulled Rodney back by his collar. "Hey Sheppard."

John rubbed his face and blinked a couple of times to clear his vision. Glancing around the jumper, he saw Teyla and Lorne near the open back hatch, watching and looking a little relieved. "Doc? Are you guys really here?"

"We're really here, colonel," she smiled. "Can you tell me where you're injured?"

"Obviously his leg is broken. Even I can see that," scolded Rodney.

Jennifer sighed and widened her eyes a moment, making John smile. "Cracked my head pretty good," he said. "Ribs are a little bruised."

Nodding, the physician completed her check of his pulse and blood pressure. "Looks like a pretty good goose egg on your head there." She felt around the upper right side of his forehead, making him wince. "Any dizziness or nausea? Blackouts?"

John paused a little, hating the answer he had to give. "Some of each, actually."

Jennifer nodded again, but didn't look surprised. "Can't tell much until we get you back, but I'm betting on a pretty severe concussion."

"I figured," John replied. "I'm just glad you guys finally got here. I was going stir crazy wondering . . . "

Teyla had moved closer and was now standing just behind Jennifer. "Wondering what, John?"

"Wondering if you guys were okay. I can't . . . " John felt strange admitting his amnesia.

Jennifer suddenly sat up a little straighter and made an "oh" with her mouth. "You don't remember what happened. Memory loss is very common with head injuries such as yours. What's the last thing you do remember?"

John had spent plenty of time going over that, trying to nudge his memories forward in time enough to tell him if his team was safe or not. "Meatloaf for lunch? And maybe sparring with Teyla?" The two memories were a little confused and John wasn't sure which came first.

"We sparred in the afternoon, after the meatloaf for lunch," said Teyla.

"That was . . . three days ago. The day before this mission," said Rodney, his eyes wide.

"Where the hell _is_ this?" asked John. "And what happened? There's a Wraith ship out there."

Jennifer raised her hand and shook her head. "No, stop. We can fill in the blanks later. Right now I need to get Colonel Sheppard back to Atlantis." When Jennifer used her _I'm in charge _voice, people usually obeyed, and quickly. In a matter of minutes, they were carrying John out of the back of the jumper.

Chattering caught his attention and apparently that of everyone else, as the whole party paused to watch the animal version of Rodney scold them from the edge of the forest. Two other creatures peeked out from behind the trees.

"A friend of yours, sir?" asked Lorne.

John smiled. "Yeah, you could say that. He's been keeping me company."

Teyla smiled and took a step closer to the animal. "It is a keerpah."

"I've been calling it a chipmunk-coon-cat since it didn't really look like the squirrel-cat I thought it was." John gradually realized everyone was staring at him. "Uh, did I say that out loud?"

"Unfortunately," replied Rodney with a roll of his eyes.

"Oops." John looked lazily up at the IV and then at the smiling doctor. "Doc, what the heck did you give me?"

"Just a little something to make your trip home a little less painful."

"Ri-i-ight." The world seemed to have slowed down and the edges of things were beginning to blur. As his stretcher began moving again, John frowned at Rodney, who was eating a powerbar. "Hey, you're eating . . . Rodney's food. Tell him . . . to share."

He wondered why Rodney was making a weird face at him and then they were entering the jumper and everything just faded away.

oOo

John smacked his lips, trying to find some moisture in his mouth. He felt like he'd been sucking on old socks. Something cold and moist touched his lips and he responded by letting it in. When the ice melted, he licked his lips again, hoping for more.

"Time to wake up, colonel. I need you to open your eyes for me."

"Mmm," John mumbled. It was all he could manage right now.

"Open your eyes for me and you can have a drink of water. That's the deal."

"Better acquiesce, colonel. Jennifer's got on her tough doctor face," said Rodney.

The sounds and touches were beginning to make more sense as John's head began to clear. Unfortunately, awareness of his surroundings had a price: awareness of his injuries. At least the pain was sort of a dull, background hurt.

"John, you are in Atlantis and safe. We are all well."

John couldn't help but smile at Teyla's reassurance. The comfort it gave provided the motivation to finally get his eyelids apart. He had to blink a few times to bring the room and people into focus. Jennifer Keller smiled down at him as she took his pulse. Rodney stood beside her. Teyla was on his right, directly across from the doctor, and Ronon stood at the foot with his arms crossed.

"About time Sheppard. Thought you were going to sleep through another day," harassed the Satedan as Jennifer gave him the promised drink of water.

"Another day?" John asked as soon as he'd released the straw. Looking at the Satedan, his eyes fell on his casted right leg.

"Just one," said Jennifer. "We brought you back yesterday. You were in and out while we did the scans, but I drugged you up so we could set your leg. It was a clean break and the bones were not much out of alignment. I don't expect any problems with your recovery. You had a pretty severe concussion, as I'm sure you're aware. You may have residual problems with headaches, dizziness, and nausea for another few days, possibly longer, but there was no sign of a fracture or hematoma."

"With that leg, he won't be going through the gate for several weeks anyway," said Rodney.

"True," said Jennifer. "That should give your plenty of time to heal. Now, just let me do a quick check."

John winced when she brought out the penlight, but didn't complain as she flicked it once in both eyes. Satisfied with the results, she advised his team not to tire him out before retiring to her office.

"Have you remembered any of what happened?" asked Teyla.

John frowned and rubbed the side of his face. "Nothing. I'm still stuck at us sparring."

"You remember who won?" asked Ronon with a big grin.

"Yes, but it wouldn't matter," said John. "It's not like I couldn't figure it out."

Teyla smiled and patted him on the arm. "You will be able to beat me one day, provided you ever decide to practice."

"Somehow I doubt that," John muttered. "So, anyone care to fill me in on what the heck happened?"

His teammates pushed the chairs around and sat down, making themselves comfortable. Teyla raised the head of his bed a little before leaning back in her chair. John had to close his eyes for a moment until the dizziness caused by the change in position settled.

"The mission was to M2P 991," said Rodney.

"Wait, we had a briefing about that, right? Just before the meatloaf. Preliminary reports indicated a good sized village several miles from the gate. We were going to take a jumper to check it out." John remembered the discussion about the mission, just not the actual mission itself.

"Right," Rodney agreed, nodding his head. "Well we went there. Did the meet and greet thing, made all the little villagers happy that we could help them. They had some kind of meat they were going to trade.

"They also had a selection of several vegetables and a plant we believe Jennifer will be interested in. The villagers use it for pain relief," added Teyla. She arched one eyebrow at Rodney, making him sigh and look away.

"The Wraith came," said Ronon in a gruff voice.

"Why we were surprised, I'll never know," Rodney groused. "They have some underground caves they keep stocked to hide in during Wraith invasions, but they were being picked off trying to get there. You decided to play Captain Courageous yet again and distract the Wraith with the jumper."

"It worked," Teyla said, smiling and squeezing his hand briefly. "You were making runs at the darts, sometimes cloaked and sometimes not cloaked, confusing them as to how many jumpers they were fighting. When we were almost to the caves, we lost sight of you."

"The last we saw, a dart was on your tail and you were headed in the direction where we found you. We ended up staying the night in the caves. The Wraith searched for hours and when they couldn't find us, they destroyed most of the village." Rodney shook his head and looked at the floor.

"When we got back to the village and you weren't there, we tried to help the villagers. We knew Atlantis would call for a check in before any of us could make it to the gate," said Ronon. His brow furrowed a little as he looked at John.

"Look, I know you guys would do whatever you could to find me," said John, knowing from their expressions they were feeling guilty. "There's a huge, fast-moving river between the village and the gate. Anyone trying to cross would probably have been killed. Why do you think they don't have any other trade partners?"

"We know we did what we could, but in retrospect, it still does not seem enough," Teyla said.

"I'm here, so obviously it was. I'm guessing Atlantis sent jumpers to help the villagers." John tried to get them back into storytelling and away from their guilt.

"Yeah, they did. One jumper was supposed to be designated to search and rescue a certain missing pilot, but right before they arrived, a huge storm blew in. The winds and lightning were too dangerous to fly in. One of the jumpers had a pretty rough landing as it was. We all ended up spending the night in the caves again, except for a small party in charge of watching after the jumpers. Anyway, that's why it took us two days to rescue you. We got up yesterday morning to blue skies, so we were able to track you down," Rodney said.

"There are still people there helping the villagers," said Teyla. "We will help them rebuild their village."

John gave a small nod and leaned back against the pillows. "Good. I think I'd like to meet them. Again."

"Oh, and your furry friend almost attacked us for taking you away. You and him must have forged quite a bond while you were there," said Rodney. "That or he knew we were taking away his food supply." As if that reminded him of something, Rodney pulled a power bar from his pocket, tore it open, and began eating it. "And I rescued what was left of my case of powerbars. I put those there for emergencies."

John tried to shift over a little to his left to ease an ache in his back, groaning a little at the stab of pain in his leg. Then he scowled at Rodney. "I crashed a jumper in the middle of nowhere with no idea when to expect a rescue. Exactly how much of an emergency do you need?"

Rodney chewed furiously on the bite of powerbar in his mouth, finally swallowing. John couldn't help but picture the chipmunk-coon thingy, whatever it was called. If he'd felt better, he'd have swatted at the finger that stabbed the air in his direction. "You had plenty of MREs left. You didn't have to eat most of the box. That was my special stash of chocolate chip and peanut butter. What were you doing, feeding them to those . . . keeper . . . keepooh . . . those chipmunk-cats or whatever you called them? You did say something about eating their food when we were hauling you out of there."

"I only ate two bars. Rodney and his merry band chewed the box open and ate the rest," John said, determined to defend himself.

Rodney's eyes widened and he dropped the hand that had been on the way to his mouth. "Rodney?"

John suddenly realized what he'd just admitted. He looked first at Teyla, and then Ronon, silently asking for help, but they just grinned.

Pushing to the edge of his seat, Rodney pointed at John. "You named that thing Rodney. Hah! Guess you were missing me, huh? I'm your best friend, right?" Rodney glanced at Ronon and jutted his chin out. "He named him after me."

John rubbed his hand down his face, his eyes drooping. He could feel the pull of sleep and knew he wasn't going to last much longer. "Yes, I named him Rodney. He reminded me of you."

Rodney nodded and grinned even wider, if that was possible. "Because he stuck by you, right? He kept you company."

"Actually it was because he talked nonstop and was always trying to get something to eat. Just reminded me of you."

Rodney's mouth opened and closed a few times and then he pushed himself back in his chair. "Fine. Whatever. See if I bring the cavalry to rescue you again," he snapped, chomping off a big bite of powerbar. Then he stopped and stared at the remains of the bar, as if realizing what he'd just done.

John dozed off with a smile on his face, the sound of his friends' laughter singing him to sleep.

THE END


End file.
